The Angel Who Couldn't Fly
by clover bookcat
Summary: There once was a story, told long ago, of a boy who became a servant of the gods.


**A/N: This doesn't match the tone of Uprising at all, but the drama bug bit me _hard_ the other day and I happened to be in the middle of my Kid Icarus phase. My fingers are itching to write something more dialogue oriented, though, so maybe I'll make up for it with some humor later.**

**I also apologize for the tongue-in-cheek FMA reference, for those who catch it. Uprising is beautiful because it has so many shout-outs.**

* * *

Many years ago, before the war against humanity and the heavens, there was a young boy.

He was born to a loving couple who had wanted a child for years, and who felt blessed that the gods had rewarded them with a son. He was named Skye for the color of his eyes; his mother was pleased, for blue-eyed children were a rarity and boasted future potential.

"Surely," she said, gently pressing a kiss to his forehead, "he will grow into a man whose spirit shall reach above the clouds."

Skye grew into an energetic child, as his parents expected. He was quick on his feet and faster with his hands, and his father, a blacksmith, taught him everything he knew. Weapons transformed beneath his fingers: swords, staffs, even cannons. At a young age, he was labeled as a son who would succeed the family profession.

His favorite weapon, however, was the bow.

Skye could shoot anything, no matter how far. He could hit a target while running or riding a horse. His father began taking him out on hunting trips before he learned how to write.

"Such talent," Skye's father would say. "It should be nurtured. You never know when it might come in handy aside from catching the day's supper."

On days when he wasn't working, Skye would often lie on the hill where their house was and gaze up at his namesake. When the other children asked why, he would answer, "Just trying to see."

"See what?" they would ask.

"The sun," he would reply. "The moon. The stars. I wonder what the gods see, when they look down on us?" And of course the children didn't know, for why should they care what the gods thought of them? Gods were stories and offerings and what their parents would go to war for, but they'd never met any of them, after all. So they'd go off to play gladiators, leaving Skye behind where he lay on the hill in silence.

For years, their lives were peaceful. And one day, they were granted a second son.

The parents were delighted for the addition to their family, and Skye loved his newborn brother as only an elder brother could. The child, who was kind and gentle and had their deceased grandfather's black hair, also loved his family with all his heart. He cared for their mother, respected their father, and faithfully followed his older brother everywhere. Together the boys were a handful, but their parents didn't mind (except when they wrecked havoc in the father's workshop, but they all liked to pretend that didn't happen). They were a happy family, keeping to themselves and living a pleasant life on the outskirts of their village.

It could be said that such perfect happiness was destined to be shattered.

When the army invaded, it was not out of spite of the village itself. This was still when humans were often at war with one another, before monsters would appear to take power for their own gods, and it was simply caught in the crossfire of an escalating battle. Being a poor community, it had little opportunity to defend itself, and war brought pillaging and fires. It was an aspect of life that was accepted, though not with any satisfaction.

When the soldiers reached their house, Skye had been out on his hill. He did not notice as they approached, nor did they see him. It was only when the fires colored the sky with an unpleasant, flesh-like hue that Skye jolted up and sprinted down the path. He arrived at the house and stopped in front of the garden his mother had been tending to that morning when he left.

In one day, everything Skye treasured was ripped out of his hands and strewn across the blood-soaked grass.

* * *

The boy came to himself alone and forgotten, having somehow escaped the massacre of his home. While Skye was normally a willful child, the loss of his family had left him desperate. He prayed to the gods and asked them why such tragedy was forced upon him, why his parents and his brother couldn't live.

But Skye was still young, and he forgot that not all gods would respond kindly to his words.

At the precise moment when he knelt before the remains of his home, the Fates made an error. It was a one in a million chance, perhaps less than that, or perhaps it was destined to happen either way and not even the Fates could have predicted it. Regardless, they fumbled in their pattern of weaving and cutting so that the goddess Medusa was one of those who heard his call. After being exiled by the goddess Palutena, she had begun recruiting soldiers for the Underworld Army on behalf of Hades and she realized that the strength of this human would be quite a welcome addition to the troops. What was still raw and innocent could be trained, after all.

So she went to earth and took the form of a snake, and slithered up the youth's arm as he prayed. From there, she whispered in his ear, "I could give you your family back, for a price."

The boy shuddered involuntarily. "A…price?"

"Of course. Everything in this world comes with a price – equivalent exchange and all that. It's only fair, if I do my part, that you do yours. If you swear to follow me, your parents and brother will breathe air and walk the earth again."

Skye had learned from his parents which gods he should pray to in times of great need, but a fog of pain and despair had arrived with the snake, and he could not think clearly. The words of agreement were out of his mouth before he knew what he was doing. Medusa hissed in satisfaction and, as she had promised, his family was resurrected and placed in a nearby village. It was as though the attack and their deaths had never happened; a miracle, except for one thing.

They believed they had only one son.

Skye's little brother had taken his place, his face, and his name. His hair was no longer black but brown, and his eyes were blue instead of gold. No longer was Skye a trusted blacksmith apprentice, but instead a sharp-tongued boy who wanted to be a scholar. His aspirations were troubling to his parents, and gradually a rift began to form between all three. The family, while alive, was no longer the picture of happiness it had once been.

When the soul that had once been Skye realized what he had done, he cried out in horror, but it was too late. He had sold himself to the Underworld, for one life can only be traded for another.

"You should thank me, really," Medusa told the spirit she held in her hands. "I had to pull quite a few strings to let them swap three souls for one. Hades wasn't pleased at all, said it was a waste of resources."

The soul only flickered sadly in answer.

However, the little human had not been abandoned. Palutena, from her throne in the skies, also heard his cry, and where Medusa had recognized his strength of heart Palutena was instead amazed by the purity of his soul. She knew, in the moment she heard his prayer, that he was a human that should have been fated to become an angel when he died. But Medusa was faster and took advantage of his weakness, and Palutena knew that if she abandoned him the boy would serve under her for all eternity.

Deciding to take back what was rightfully hers, Palutena followed Medusa to her lair in the form of a dove. Perching on a crevice high enough where Medusa couldn't reach her, she demanded that the soul be returned.

"His original thread should have lead straight to me," she argued. "He would have been my servant, captain of my guards."

Medusa, however, was less than willing to cooperate with the person responsible for sending her away in the first place. It wasn't her fault the Fates had fumbled with the string, she retorted, and if Palutena wanted the soul so badly then she'd have to pay for compensation.

"An army to serve my purposes, loyal only to me," she stated, "and a handicap of my choosing over the human. No more, no less."

Initially, Palutena protested the terms of the offer. That Medusa had the audacity to ask for the foundation of an army which Palutena knew would eventually be used against her was bad enough, but bringing her potential soldier more harm than he'd already been dealt with was not included in her morals.

The snakes that made up Medusa's hair danced around her face in irritation, hissing and spitting at the intruder. "Why not? After all, if _this_ –" she held up the human soul and gave it a sharp shake, "– is supposed to be worth your while, he should be able to hold his own against my forces regardless of any help you give me, or what restrictions are placed on him. Besides, building an army takes time. I won't be interested in getting in your hair if I'm given something to work with. You could have…" she pauses just long enough for the proposal to linger tantalizingly in the air before going in for the final blow.

"_Peace._"

Medusa was cunning, in more ways than one. She had worked with Palutena long enough to know she would do anything to protect her precious little humans, and the sporadic attacks from her lower minions didn't accomplish much offensively but still dealt blows to her will. And with a loyal army, she could have a legion separate from Hades' domain and potentially be free of the blasted servitude-turned-prison that Palutena had trapped her in.

Of course, it wouldn't actually take her years to build her army, but Palutena didn't need to know that.

Palutena could have refused, but something in her was convinced that she needed this boy, if not now then in the future. A follower, an ally, a friend – they could all be hers if she was willing to deal with the consequences. Centurions were loyal followers, but they treated her with too much reverence to grow close to her. And if she was willing to admit it, Palutena had been _lonely_ since she had exiled Medusa.

Just because gods were powerful didn't mean they were unfeeling, after all.

"Very well," she said heavily. "You will have your army."

Medusa's snake-hair hissed again, this time in pleasure. "I'm glad you see things my way."

* * *

And so the little soul was taken to the skies which it had often gazed at when it was alive, through the clouds and into the sky world. The earth was still quite young, and Hades had not yet taken to enforcing the laws of the dead in order to keep others out of his territory. Palutena took advantage of this opening and used her power to breathe life back into the human, granting him the face she saw in his memories from his time on earth. He could not regain his humanity, but a god could link a servant to their own lifespan if they saw use for it.

When he blinked awake, yawning, Palutena's first order of business was to grant him a new name.

"I'll call you Pit," she said, pleased by her idea, "because I saved you from the pits of hell."

This would be the first (but not the only) instance where Pit was subjected to his mistress' strange sense of humor.

The angel had much to learn about his new home, but he learned to adapt quickly. He had no memories of his life as a human due to passing through the river Lethe during his time as a soul in the Underworld, but he was not bothered by it. Past was past, and all that mattered now was that he successfully support Palutena. In fact, he was more concerned about his inability to fly when Angel Land gained more, well, _angels_ for residents.

"Mine are the only ones that don't work," he would mutter, poking his wings. "Why?"

Palutena had thought about whether to tell him the story of how he joined her ranks – and by extension, the exact bargain that had left his wings as decoration – but she decided against it. Pit made up for his lack of flying skill with his hand-to-hand combat ability, something a vast majority of her soldiers lacked. Right now, Pit only needed to know that for now her temple was safe. Perhaps, one day, she could help give him a taste of what it was like to fly, if her power ever grew strong enough.

However, she did feel guilty about involving his family. Even if Pit no longer remembered, Palutena knew he would have wanted to see them if he could. She took it as her personal responsibility to keep them safe from any physical danger and watched over them until they reached the gates to the Land of the Dead. They lived in relative tranquility, if unhappily, and Pit's parents reached the Underworld safely.

Strangely, his brother's soul never seemed to go to the Underworld and she couldn't find him in heaven, either, but she had no way to check when Hades had finally blocked the gates from the use of other gods. She could only hope he was at peace, wherever he had ended up.

Even the queen of light and harmony, however, could not heal wounds dealt to the subconscious. Pit's family grieved for the boy called Skye in their hearts, even if they never did remember the time they had lost during the remainder of their short lives.

Whenever Palutena caught Pit gazing down at the surface world only to pull away, looking down at the hand reached out towards it in confusion, she wondered if he did the same.

* * *

One day, Palutena called Pit to her throne chamber.

"Pit," she said, "I have a request for you."

Pit snapped to attention. He didn't know much about the chain of authority in Angel Land, but even he knew that the goddess did not give out orders to just anyone. "Yes, Lady Palutena?"

She leaned back, her staff clicking against the floor as she shifted her legs. "Well, it's not so much a request as a grant, I suppose. I'm giving you a promotion."

Pit's eyes grew round. "R-Really?"

"Yes." Palutena smiled. "Young angel Pit, I want you to take up the position as captain of my guard."

For a long moment the angel's jaw remained glued to the floor, until he realized that he should probably pick it back up to refrain from looking like an idiot. "Wow. Um, I'd be honored."

Palutena waved her hand and a bow appeared, floating in the air before Pit's face. "For now it's only for ceremonial purposes so I'll take it back later, but if you're ever in need of it I'll send it to you." She gestured again, this time at Pit. "It represents your service to me and Angel Land. Go on, take it."

Cautiously, Pit grasped the handle of the bow. It settled in his hand comfortably.

"Pit," Palutena continued, "do you pledge your loyalty to me and to my realm, for the heavens and humanity, and do you promise to protect it if I must ever call on you to fight?"

Pit knelt before the throne, placing one fist on the ground in submission as the other hand kept the bow grasped at his hip. Crystal and gold sparkled in the sunlight, and he smiled. "Of course, Lady Palutena."


End file.
